


Of Watering Cans and Tea

by Commodore_Enigma



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Friendship, F/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22514707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commodore_Enigma/pseuds/Commodore_Enigma
Summary: Following a couple of difficult days at work, Hank decides to visit Rose at her farm for a much needed break and distraction.Pre-relationship, one-shot.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Rose Chapman
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Of Watering Cans and Tea

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this piece for the discord server The Rarest of DBH Pairs' Secret Santa/Big Bang event. This one-shot was my first time writing these characters; hopefully it does alright on that front!

By the time he saw the familiar sign of “Rose’s Farm,” the scene of the homicide was mostly out of his head. He’d witnessed countless scenes like it in his career, and he knew that with time the memories would fade, but the stench and deterioration of a long-decomposed body never left his senses quickly, especially in less than a day. But in this case, just seeing the increasingly familiar landscape and the sign began to draw his attention away from it, if only a little.

Even the frustration of getting nowhere with a separate case had started to fade away with the encroaching sight of the quaint home and greenhouse. Somehow, the boisterous metal music that racketed through his car felt more out of place than it had the last time he came out here, and even the time before that.

As he pulled into the driveway, he realized that it’d been only three days since he’d last visited Rose. He hoped that it wasn’t too soon. Recently, they’d begun to visit each other once a week. It was almost always at her home, more presentable than his own even with the significantly lessened incidences of beer cans and takeout containers left out on tables and counters. Their visits had become a habit, just like the occasional text conversations scattered throughout his workdays and time off. 

He knew he’d like to visit her more often than once a week on the regular, if she or Adam wouldn’t mind. Visiting the little farm with Rose and her son, who had begun to warm up to his presence and interact with him more particularly through the discussion of sports teams, had become a calming experience in the past couple months. There was almost a domestic comfort to visiting them, one that faintly reminded him of years long gone.

He got out of his car and looked at the front of the house. The lights were on, but she could easily be in the greenhouse too.

Hank sauntered over to the side of the house, to where the little greenhouse stood, and he glanced around, seeing no sign of Rose.

There was the sound of shoes crunching against gravel, and then it stopped. “You’re back soon,” a familiar voice greeted warmly from behind him.

He turned around, and sure enough Rose had stepped down from her front porch, watching him serenely. “Hopefully that’s not a bad thing,” he replied.

“Not at all,” she assured him with a small smile as she stepped closer. She took in the sight of him, and frowned slightly before she gently asked, “everything alright?”

Was it that obvious how his day had been? His texts hadn’t exactly hinted at anything. He’d simply said he’d wanted to come by and visit, and she had responded positively and asked no further questions. She’d gotten scarily good at figuring him out in the past month in particular.

Though he termed it as “scary,” he knew that wasn’t the true descriptor. In the past several months he had grown to remember how nice, even comforting it could be having someone take interest in his welfare and be so obvious about it in the process.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied partially.

Rose didn’t ask any further questions, but she tilted her head and glanced over him with curiosity. Despite her slight skepticism, she continued onwards to her greenhouse. “How’re Connor and Sumo doing?” she asked over her shoulder, adding “I somehow forgot to ask you last time.”

Hank followed after. “Good. The same old with both of them. Connor’s still as in his element as ever.” His thoughts briefly wandered back to his cases’ progression relative to Connor’s, and he added, “he’s been just closing cases left and right, feels like.”

His tonal shift wasn’t lost on her. “And you haven’t?” She guessed, free of judgement.

“Some of the leads I’ve gotten were total shit. It’s taking a while,” he admitted.

“I see,” Rose said thoughtfully, as she filled a watering can in the sink, “I’m guessing you didn’t come here to talk about work, did you?”

“Yeah, anything but it,” Hank confirmed. He realized just how much of his thoughts had been revolving around his cases the past couple days, now that he was beginning to get a break from it.

They stood in comfortable silence for some time. He did a double take as the faucet was turned off and she began to carry the watering can around the various shelves lined with crops. He realized it had been a while since he’d been in the greenhouse, and he questioned his recollection of its interior as he asked, “wait, weren’t there sprinklers in here?”

“There are. Something happened to the piping a few days back, and I haven’t gotten around to fixing it yet.”

Given he didn’t know much of anything about sprinkler systems or piping, he offered at a speed that managed to surprise himself, “I could take a look at it.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re not here to do more work; I’ll just take a look at it tomorrow when I have more time,” Rose reassured as she focused on watering a row of tomato plants.

Hank felt uncomfortable just standing there, so he persisted gently on the subject, “you have a second watering can or something? I’m right here, after all.”

“You really don’t have to, Hank,” Rose reassured him, “it’s not exactly efficient, but it’s honestly refreshing taking care of the crops this way. I haven’t done it in a while.”

“I’d like to,” Hank insisted.

“Alright,” she relented, “there’s another watering can under that cabinet, I think.” She gestured towards the sink and worn counter in the corner of the building. “It hasn’t been used in a while.”

When he pulled out the watering can, he found that it had, in fact, not been used in a while. Its metal showed the beginnings of rusting along a couple places, but it was robust enough and filled quickly due to its smaller volume.

As he began to water the row of unruly cucumbers, which were closest to the sink, he settled into a comfortable silence, focused on consistently watering each crop. He’d done it perhaps once before on one of the occasions he’d helped Rose tend to the farm. While it wasn’t overly familiar and throughout his life he’d never been particularly gifted at tending to plants, there was something about it that helped clear his mind. He made a mental note to possibly try and do more farm chores. If anything, it was an excuse for him to see Rose more often, and admittedly it would be nice to get a break from the usual sights and scenes of Detroit he was used to.

He was so distracted by contemplating the idea of watering plants and seeing Rose more that he bumped into Rose as their routes intersected, right at where the little rows of ginseng and strawberries lined up next to each other on a recently added shelf.

“Sorry,” he muttered, slightly embarrassed.

Rose chuckled softly and stepped away from him, easing the mostly emptied watering can out of his hands. “Don’t worry about it. It’s really centering, isn’t it? I’d forgotten about that,” she mused, looking up at him.

Hank nodded.

Rose stowed the watering cans. “You in a rush to get home?” she asked as she walked back up to him.

“No.”

“I got some new tea when I was last at the farmer’s market, if you wanted to try it,” she offered.

“That’d be nice,” Hank agreed. The comfortable peace of being with Rose again had settled over him entirely, and he wasn’t ready to let that go quite yet. 

He observed the tea wearily, breathing in the scent of oranges and spices as he contemplated whether it was cool enough to drink without his tongue paying the ultimate price of drinking too soon. He’d never been a tea person in his life, but lo and behold here he was, possibly on the road to drinking tea more than alcohol courtesy of Rose; and Connor didn’t even know about this change. Yet.

Rose’s side was pressed against his on the porch swing, a warm, grounding presence in the mild late spring evening. She took a sip from her own mug and commented with a gently teasing smile, looking over at him “don’t worry, it’s cooled down enough this time.” She clearly recalled the last time that Hank drank tea with her and attempted to take a hearty swig of it too soon.

Despite himself, Hank chuckled at the memory. Rose’s genuine concern and then laughter after Hank had cursed up a storm had made the pain of a scorched tongue _almost_ worth it.

He took a more tentative sip of tea, and found that it was, in fact, lukewarm and perfectly safe to drink this time around. “Hope the sprinklers get fixed soon,” he said after he took a sip.

“Thanks, me too. It’s fine for the time being, but eventually it’ll need to be taken care of. Thanks for your help watering,” she leaned her side against Hank a little more, nestling in a bit.

“You’re welcome.” In their most newly developed habit, he tentatively wrapped an arm around her shoulders and lounged back in the seat.

Rose relaxed under his arm, leaning back as well, and it brought a warmth to Hank’s chest as they enjoyed the moment side by side. They’d been growing closer lately… but he didn’t know when either of them would test things out with a step further. At the moment, the comfort and familiarity they had was more than enough; and though Hank cared about her greatly he wasn’t quite ready for what would come next.

Someday he would be, but at the moment they had a friendship that was _almost_ something more, derived from some combination of losses and intersecting paths, and that was something he held dear.

Rose eventually stirred out of his hold, and he let her go, noticing that the sun was nearly gone.

“Well, I should get going,” Hank stated, getting back to his feet slowly. He gave her a goodbye nod and began to leave the porch.

“Hang on a second. I’ve got something for you,” Rose called after.

Confused, Hank stopped in his tracks and watched her as she left into her house. A few moments later, she stepped back out, a cardboard box in her hands.

She handed it over to Hank, and he inspected it, finding an array of cucumbers, herbs, strawberries, and tomatoes. Rose explained, “I had some surplus from yesterday. Adam and I wouldn’t get through it fast enough.”

“Thanks.” It seemed like he left with produce every time he visited her nowadays. Connor would undoubtedly be pleased with it as always, glad that Hank was making better dietary options; assuming he or Connor cooked the produce fast enough.

“Of course,” she warmly replied. “Take care of yourself, Hank,” she reached up a hand and patted his shoulder. “Remember, you’re always welcome here.”

From her, it sounded so genuine, and Hank felt further smitten and at ease with Rose from that. He reached forward and took her hand, gently squeezing it before letting go again. “You too.”

With that, he left and walked back to his car.

When he turned onto the road back home, he found that the contentment from being at the little farm stayed with him as a comfortable weight, even as the stressful cases crossed his mind yet again and his metal music blasted in his ears.


End file.
